


And Eventually In Your Own

by stardust_and_sunlight



Series: camera nerds [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, i wrote a sequel!, it took goddamn long enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_and_sunlight/pseuds/stardust_and_sunlight
Summary: Enjolras returns Grantaire's camera. Éponine laughs at them both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO it's been a while! I have been SO BUSY but here I am with a sequel that I've basically been writing slowly since I finished the last one. I should have some more new stuff soon as well, so keep an eye out (if you want...)  
> I dedicate this to Sadaf, who cheerleaded gently as I wrote 100 words at a time.  
> The title comes from the second half of the quote that I used for the FIRST fic. Hoho.  
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you like it! Comments and kudos are, as always, much appreciated.

Grantaire groaned in frustration as the shitty hostel wifi disconnected _again_. Cursing, he clambered to his feet and moved nearer to the door, walking in circles until the wifi reconnected, and then slumped back on his bed. 

From the bunk bed above him, Éponine laughed. "Why don't you just stand over next to the door, rather than walking back and forth?" 

Grantaire glared up at the slats on the bottom of her bed. "Because I'm tired, and if I stand over there I'll end up sitting over there, and then I'll fall asleep on the floor. And I refuse to sleep on the floor when we paid good money for a bed."

Éponine chuckled. "It wasn't really _good_ money," she said. 

"Fine, I refuse to sleep on the floor when we paid _any_ money for a bed, okay?"

He refreshed his email again, letting out an exasperated sigh when it once again failed to load. 

"I just want to check my emails," he moaned, and Éponine laughed again. 

"Just go downstairs! They have a restaurant, I could go a pizza. Get pizza. Go downstairs, check your email, and get me pizza," she finished, sounding very pleased with herself. 

"I'm not bloody getting you a fucking pizza, you lazy fuck," Grantaire said, thumping his head down on the pillow. 

Éponine's head appeared upside down over the bed, her hair falling around her head. "Don't fucking swear so much," she said primly, and Grantaire threw his socks at her. 

Her head vanished, and he could hear her laughter from above him. He raised his feet and pushed up her mattress between the slats. She yelped. 

"Fine, fine," she muttered resignedly. "I'll go down with you and get my own pizza and you can check your email, okay?"

She jumped down from her bed, landing with a huge thud. 

Grantaire winced. "Jesus _Christ_.”

Éponine smirked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Nah, just me," she said, and

Grantaire laughed despite himself. 

"Alright, then," he grumbled as he got to his feet. "I'm sure it'll be shitty pizza but yeah, let's go get pizza."  
  
***  
  
"Okay so you were right," Éponine said, frowning down at her pizza. "This is mediocre at best."

"Mediocre at best," Grantaire said, biting into his own pizza. "That's what my autobiography will be called."

Éponine kicked him under the table. "Oi," she said harshly, "none of that."

"It was a joke!" Grantaire said, but he sighed as she just frowned at him. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Good," Éponine said. "Now, didn't you wanna check your emails?"

"Ooh, yeah," he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Someone was emailing me about a commission that I can do when I get back, I just wanted to see. And, you know. Maybe someone will have found my camera."

Éponine sighed. "I still can't believe you fucking lost it. I know we took a whole bunch of photos in case you did but I still can't believe it. You idiot."

"You shush and eat your pizza," Grantaire said, without much heat, smiling when the wifi finally connected. 

"Huh, there's an email in the account I made for the camera? No subject line though, maybe it's spam..." he clicked on it, and then ate more pizza while the wifi refused to work. "Why the fuck is this wifi so fucking bad, I swear to go- oh." He stopped suddenly, staring at the screen and the four words in the email. 

_I've found your camera._

“Holy shit.”

***

“Still can’t believe someone found it,” Éponine said, lounging back in her chair.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said distractedly, his leg bouncing up and down, an untouched cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

Éponine sipped her own tea and smirked at him. “You’re not worried, are you? I still think you should have internet stalked this guy.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Grantaire said, “I just hope he shows up.”

“He seemed nice, didn’t you say?” Éponine said, grinning. “I remember, because you were practically _blushing_ when you told me.”

“I was _not,”_ Grantaire snapped, but, well. He _had_ seemed nice.

Grantaire had stared at the very first email incredulously for a good few minutes before Éponine had forced him to reply. A series of emails back and forth had followed, and Grantaire had found out that the miraculous camera finder was a guy called Enjolras, who worked near the park he’d found Grantaire’s camera in.

Grantaire had found out that Enjolras was French but spoke English as well, and even after they’d arranged a meeting time and place for Enjolras to return Grantaire’s camera, they’d kept emailing, just _chatting_. It was bizarre. And it was nice.

“What if he’s really old?”

Grantaire blinked at Éponine. “What?”

Éponine laughed, her tea cradled in her hands, looking content and beautiful as always. (Grantaire couldn’t understand it. After weeks of traveling, he was a bit scruffy, a bit tired, a bit rumpled. But Éponine always looked perfect. It was her super power. That, and speaking every language ever.)

“What if the guy who found your camera is old?”

Grantaire laughed. “So what? I’m still incredibly grateful. I said he was _nice_ , not that I want to _date_ him. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Éponine scoffed and turned back to her tea. “I kinda want cake,” she mused, glancing back at the café-bar that they were sat outside of. “I bet they do really nice pastries.”

“We’re in _France,_ Éponine,” Grantaire said, “literally everywhere does nice pastries.”

Éponine muttered something under her breath, but Grantaire didn’t hear her, because there was a guy around their age walking towards their little table, and he was _gorgeous._ All blond curls and high cheekbones and pouty lips and Grantaire’s fingers itched to paint him, all bright, warm colours…

And then the guy stopped in front of their table and Grantaire felt a sudden rush of panic as he realised that he was staring… and then he reached into his bag and pulled out Grantaire’s camera.

“Fuck,” Grantaire exclaimed, and the guy handed it over, smiling. A small part of Grantaire’s brain whimpered at that smile, but a much larger part was focused on his camera, as he obsessively checked it over for scrapes and scratches, cradling it in his arms, vaguely aware that he was being creepy but not really caring much.

“Thank you,” he said, looking gratefully up at the guy- at _Enjolras,_ who smiled again. “Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee as a thanks!”

Enjolras blushed, and shook his head, starting to speak, but Grantaire interrupted him. “Honestly, please let me buy you a coffee, it’s the least I can do, I have so many pictures on this camera, I was devastated when I thought I’d lost it!”

Grantaire was vaguely aware that he was rambling, but then Enjolras smiled and sat down grudgingly and it was worth it.

“Honestly, it’s fine, all I did was stumble across it, I didn’t do anything-“

“Don’t be daft, I’m getting another one anyway, this is cold now,” Grantaire said, glancing about and catching the eye of the cheery waitress. She came over, smiling, and Grantaire grinned at her, ordering himself another coffee in passable French. “What would you like?”

Enjolras smiled sheepishly and turned to the waitress, rattling out an intensely complicated order in French. The waitress nodded and wandered away, and Grantaire blinked at him.

“What?” he said blankly, and Enjolras flushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how much French you knew, I figured it would be easier to just ask her myself…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Éponine smirked. “He basically ordered a froofy frappe-cappuccino,” she said, nodding at Enjolras. “I’m Éponine. And I’m leaving. I’m going to go back to that music shop. Meet you back at the hostel!”  And in a sudden and unexpected flurry of movement, she grabbed her bag and her giant sunhat and vanished, blowing a kiss in their direction as she walked away.

Grantaire and Enjolras looked at each other, shocked, and then they looked away, flushing. There was an awkward silence for a beat and then-

“Goddamnit,” Grantaire cursed, “she didn’t pay for her fucking tea.” And Enjolras laughed.

And after that it was _easy._ It was disconcerting how easy it was. They had so much in common and the things they disagreed on, they argued amicably enough about. Enjolras was passionate and enthusiastic and opinionated and they liked the same things and they teased each other with an odd familiarity considering that they’d never met before (when their coffees arrived, Enjolras’ was heaped with an incredible amount of whipped cream which Grantaire couldn’t resist mocking him for) and it was just so _nice._

They talked about their jobs and their families and their friends. They talked about Grantaire’s hometown (Glasgow. Enjolras had never been to Scotland, and Grantaire spent some time ranting about how much he loved and hated the country in equal measures), Enjolras recommended some nice non-touristy places they should visit while they were here. They talked Hogwarts houses and how much they hated Snape and they talked about the new Star Wars and the new Ghostbusters and the new Star _Trek_ and then Enjolras went off on a tangent about animated movies that Grantaire just nodded along with.

Enjolras’ English was impeccable, significantly better than Grantaire’s French (although Grantaire had made an attempt…) He admitted that he’d grown lazy- Éponine was so good with languages, and she always wanted to practice, so he tended to just listen as opposed to speak. His spoken French was _passable,_ sure, but not something he was proud enough of to use with someone he _fancied._

And he did fancy Enjolras (even if that was a ridiculously primary school phrase to use). He was intelligent and funny and articulate and yes, he was incredibly beautiful, Grantaire couldn’t deny that Enjolras was his type _exactly,_ but it was more than that, as cheesy as it sounded. Enjolras was also cute and nerdy and ridiculous and he’d almost punched a passer-by, flailing his arms around to make a point.

Grantaire wanted to spend more time with him, get to know him better, watch films and bake cakes and read quietly in the same room as him and just _be near him_. This was an alarming development.

Grantaire hadn’t _dated_ anyone in a long time, and now he wanted to date this bizarre beautiful man who lived in a completely different country to him. But, well. Enjolras was just great.

“Oh, I should go soon,” Enjolras said, glancing at his watch. “I’m on my lunch break from work, I need to go back.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, hoping his face hadn’t fallen too much. He glanced down at the coffee cups between them, both still practically full and cold now. “You didn’t drink your fancy coffee,” he said mournfully, and Enjolras laughed.

“Well, that’s your fault, really, for starting to talk about Harry Potter, which is my true weakness.”

Grantaire grinned, and then ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Um, since I didn’t technically get to treat you to a coffee, since you didn’t drink it, can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

Enjolras frowned at him. “No, you don’t need to thank me anymore, you’ve done more than enough! All I did was stumble across your camera, honestly-”

“No, I don’t mean…” Grantaire swore under his breath. Oh well. This was happening. “Not as a thank you, as like. A date. If you’d like.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, staring at Grantaire in surprise.

Grantaire looked away, cursing himself. They’d only talked for an _hour_ and they lived in different countries and- Enjolras cleared his throat and Grantaire looked up grudgingly.

Enjolras was smiling tentatively at him and Grantaire’s heart leapt hopefully.

“Yes,” Enjolras said, “yes, oui, I would like that.”

Grantaire beamed, and Enjolras’ answering smile lit up his eyes.

***

Grantaire walked back to the hostel in a daze, the whole day rewinding itself again and again, thoughts filling his head. He was sure he was grinning ridiculously, but he didn’t care. He was _going on a date with Enjolras._

He made his way up the stairs to their dorm room, and pushed the door open carefully, in case there were people other than Éponine there, poking his head through.

“There’s no-one else here,” Éponine said, and Grantaire almost leapt out of his skin.

“What the _fuck,_ ” he said, gasping for breath. “You’re lying on your bed? You couldn’t see the door? Are you actually magical?”

“No,” Éponine drawled, still lying horizontal on her top bunk, on her phone. “You’re just very loud.”

Grantaire hmmph-ed and came fully into the room. Sure enough, it was empty, the only sound the tinny noises coming from Éponine’s headphones. “Wait, you’re wearing _headphones?_ What the fuck?”

Éponine laughed and pulled the headphones off, sitting up and looking down at Grantaire. “Well? How was it?”

Grantaire blinked up at her, still thinking about her _fucking weirdness._ “What?”

Éponine rolled her eyes. “How was your _coffee_ with _Enjolras?”_

Grantaire beamed. “Oh. It was great.” He wandered over to his giant stereotypical back-packers backpack, rummaging through it.

He heard Éponine’s sigh of annoyance, and hid a smile, counting down the seconds. _Three, two, one-_

“What happened??”

He smirked. “We’re going out for dinner later.”

_“What?!”_  Éponine’s exclamation was loud and surprised and Grantaire laughed.

“On a _date,”_ he said smugly, and Éponine gaped at him.

“What the fuck,” she said blankly. “How the _fuck.”_

Grantaire beamed at her. “He was so nice, and so smart and we have so much in common,” he said, vaguely aware that he was gushing but too happy to care.

“I cannot _believe_ this,” Éponine grumbled. “I cannot believe that you lost your fucking camera and got a _date_ out of it.”

Grantaire laughed and opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted by a beep from his phone. “Oh, so now the wifi connects with no bother…”

It was an email from Enjolras, five words, no subject line, and he smiled as he read it.

_It was lovely to meet you._

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/holIyshort) \- come and say hi!


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